


cupcake, darling, pumpkin, honeybun

by flaminhotcheetoes



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bros to lovers, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, bro jobs, nate is sappy and embarassing, nothing says romance like smoking weed w ur best bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25958419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaminhotcheetoes/pseuds/flaminhotcheetoes
Summary: Nate's always been a romantic. It's just never happened quite like this before.
Relationships: Nate Heywood/Behrad Tomaz | Behrad Tarazi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	cupcake, darling, pumpkin, honeybun

Nate Heywood, in all his passionate affairs, has always been a bit of a romantic. Growing up sheltered for his health meant that all he’d had to look forward to was soft. No sports, action, or adventure, only a library full of books and their flourished lines and grandiose narratives. So, yeah, he never thought he'd be the knight in shining armor on a perilous quest, and instead fancied himself more of a charming and gallant hero of bright mind and loving words. He thrived on old romances, sweet serenades and dreamed of a Juliet to his Romeo (though he  _ really  _ doesn’t want to think about their last run-in with Shakespeare). All of his previous relationships started with a yearning, what-ifs and a slow-burning fire beneath growing steadily from kindled embers to searing heat.

So, when he suddenly found himself entangled with one of his best bros, who he'd never even considered to be an option, it was as if all of the tenderness, all of the pining and fervent infatuation hit him all at once, spark flying and setting him ablaze. This is how Nate finds himself blushing like a schoolboy, daydreaming of silly, mundane fantasies of playing video games, sharing a joint, lingering touches, and other soft, fond thoughts that send his heart racing despite occurring every damn day for what feels like forever. 

He and Behrad have been flirting, only fully aware of it for a few weeks now, but God knows how long they've been dancing around each other. They've shared way too many moments in their friendship that can’t possibly be considered platonic anymore, and the other day they finally,  _ finally _ , kissed, and though that line has only just been crossed, Nate feels simultaneously like he's been waiting forever for this, and like they've only just scratched the surface. 

Right now, his heart is racing fast, stupidly fast, since all they're doing is sitting in bed and watching a movie. Truth be told, Nate's only pretending to watch. He's already kind of forgotten what they're even watching, unable to focus on anything with the way Behrad's arm is pressed against his, flooding his left side with warmth. He's pretty sure Behrad's totally aware of it too, with the way he presses slightly closer and dips his head to the side to rest on Nate's shoulder. There's no way that he can't feel his pulse where their skin meets, and Nate tentatively hooks his pinky around Behrad's, glancing down to meet his eyes. 

Behrad's eyes do that thing-- that  _ adorable _ , endearing thing where when he smiles wider than he means to, the corners of his eyes crinkle up at the corners and Nate can't stop himself from leaning in for a kiss.

Before he knows it, Behrad's leaning right back into him, swinging one long leg over Nate's to straddle his lap, and there are hands tugging at the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head. His own fingers fumble with the buttons on Behrad's flannel. His hands are sweaty and he curses, briefly considering steeling out and just ripping the thing open. It takes long enough that Behrad begins giggling at him, giving him one more quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, before backing away to finish the job himself. Nate’s face burns red-- though he’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment at his clumsy hands or from how ridiculously cute that smooch was, but eventually the shirt comes off, and Nate manages to help peel Behrad’s too-tight undershirt off too, and flings both across the room to be quickly forgotten.

Nate's hands migrate low, beneath Behrad's jeans and boxer briefs to squeeze his ass-- he's always been an ass man, and although this might be a new experience in a lot of ways, his hands default to a familiar place. The nervous thrill of feeling like an amateur all over again shifts his body into autopilot, to places he knows and has been to with previous lovers, mouth moving lower and across the column of his neck, sucking bruises behind Behrad's ear-- that one earned a noise that Nate doesn't ever want to forget, and he bites down, pressing his hips up against Behrad's in his lap.

He's never touched another guy's dick before, but he figures there's no better time to start than now, and reaches down the front of Behrad's briefs and finds it, hot and firm in his hand. He wraps his fingers around it gently, giving it an experimental squeeze that draws Behrad's mouth open wide, and Nate takes the opportunity to explore that particular avenue further. 

Behrad backs away to shimmy his legs free from the rest of his clothes, then dives back in for more, lying on the bed and tugging Nate to hover above where he lays bare. He draws Nate's hand back to his cock and guides his strokes, showing him how he likes it. Nate's always been a quick learner, attentive and studious, with a good memory. He mimics the same motions, after spitting in his hand for more slip, and after a few jerks, Behrad is shaking in his arms, voice breathy and faltering as he comes. His back arches high, skin glistening with sweat and splattered with white, toes curling and his arms wrap tighter around Nate briefly, before releasing altogether and falling to his sides.

Nate basks in the moment for a bit, lets the image sink in, while Behrad catches his breath. Call him a sap, but he wants to preserve this memory as long as he can, to remember even the little details like the way the sheets ripple around Behrad as if sculpted in marble, desperately hanging onto the echoes of what Behrad sounded like in absolute ecstasy.

He settles, finally, laid on top of Behrad, cheek resting on his sweaty shoulder and stroking his thigh gently. Nate might've even fallen asleep just lying there like that, caught up in the blissful atmosphere, when Behrad pulls him down for another kiss the moment he's recovered enough, and flips them over. He brackets Nate's head with his forearms on the sheets and lets his hair tickle Nate's face as he goes for another kiss, long and languid, before migrating downwards, licking and kissing a trail down his front, unbuckling Nate's belt with unusual haste before pulling his pants down and off his legs, discarding them on the floor behind. 

There's a brief moment of pause, and the only thing Nate can hear is his own heart thrumming, but even that pounding in his chest is drowned out the moment Behrad gets his hands on Nate's cock, long fingers slick with his own release, and does some twisting, sliding motion with his fingers with just the right amount of pressure that makes him bite his lip and groan. 

"God, B," Nate breathes, swiping at his forehead and wicking sweat away, brushing hair aside where it had begun to stick, "do you have any idea how good you look right now?"

Behrad's response is to wink-- the cheeky bastard-- and swallow him down in one fluid movement, head bobbing up and down smoothly without pause. 

Nate's hands grasp desperately at the sheets; his thighs press inwards slightly, and when Behrad lets out a noise, Nate's quick to retract, ready to apologize. Mouth still full, Behrad looks up at him through his eyelashes, eyes dark and wet and  _ wanting _ , before sliding off with an audible  _ pop _ , white teeth framed by lips red and swollen from hungry kisses and bites and his current task at hand, grinning sloppily at him.

"Here," he takes Nate's hands in his, brings one to his cheek and rests against it briefly, eyes closed, and Nate feels like his heart is going to explode from how sweet the gesture is. Then, Behrad brings both of Nate's hands up further and tangles them in his hair, and says, "You can pull if you want. I like it," and Nate feels like his heart is going to explode for entirely different reasons. 

Behrad licks a long, slow stripe along the underside of Nate’s dick, swirling his tongue around the tip a few times while sliding his hand up and down the base before taking him back in deep, and this time Nate wraps his fingers in soft, black curls and groans deeper, hips rising off the bed.

He really doesn't mean to thrust as much as he ends up thrusting, but Behrad doesn't seem to mind-- he's always been a ridiculously easy-going guy, one of the countless things that Nate's gone gooey in the brain about lately-- and only hums encouragingly and rubs circles into Nate's thighs from where he's gripping his hips. Nate gazes down at Behrad, wishing he could memorize the sheen of sweat across his brow, the way his eyelashes-- which are ridiculously long, dude, is it even legal for a guy to have such nice eyelashes?-- flutter across his cheeks, the way the tips of his hair tickle Nate's wrists and fingers. He can't believe how lucky he is. 

Behrad releases Nate's hips with another low moan that drives Nate wild, moving his hands lower, putting pressure on Nate's balls, making him groan. Lost in the sensation, Nate's fingers thread tighter in Behrad's hair, and a few more thrusts along with the sounds and vibrations of Behrad's muffled moans turn his vision white and he comes with a shout.

As he settles, breathing heavily, he retracts his fingers from dark curls, and when Behrad finally slides his lips off his cock, Nate pulls Behrad back up to kiss him again, this time with the two of them turned on their sides. He feels Behrad moving, still, and parts long enough to see him hard and in hand, chasing a second release. Nate slides his own hand down Behrad's abdomen, still slick from before, and grasps him once again, fingers slick, and helps stroke Behrad to completion again, swallowing the sweet noises he makes. 

Behrad could only have been described as beautiful the first time he came, but now? Now, Nate can't even think of a word for it; he’s a vision of debauchery, eyes shut tight, mouth pink and shiny, limbs sprawled wide and trembling faintly with the aftershocks, chest heaving and stomach painted white. Nate thinks he finally  _ really _ understands the old ballads waxing poetic about a lover, after this. He tugs Behrad closer to him, wraps an arm across his back, and sighs, content.

"Dude," Behrad whines, squirming in Nate's grasp, "Not that I'm complaining-- I love a good cuddle and your arms are  _ jacked _ to perfect cuddling form, but we are  _ disgusting _ right now and if we fall asleep like this, my hair is going to be a nightmare in the morning."

Nate hums, relenting and loosening his grip just enough to look at him and feel a smile soften his face, mirrored in Behrad's sweet gaze. Nate takes one of his hands in his, brings his fingers to his lips for a brief kiss, basking in the warmth that flushes across Behrad's cheeks before rolling away to sit up and cross the room. 

"Sit tight, bro, I'll get something to wipe you off." 

" _ Dude _ . I just sucked your dick," Behrad props himself up on an elbow, chin in hand, and raises an eyebrow, "and you're calling me  _ bro _ ?"

"Okay, fair." A damp washcloth flies through the air, smacking Behrad lightly on the cheek before falling to his shoulder. "So what should I call you instead? Cupcake?  _ Darling _ ?"

Behrad rolls his eyes up toward the ceiling and flops back down on the bed to clean himself up, and Nate laughs.

"Pumpkin?"

"I regret everything."

"Everything?" Nate echoes, climbing back into bed, taking the soiled washcloth passed to him and tossing it somewhere on the floor for later, "I guess that means I should go back to my own room then, huh?"

"Less talking," Behrad turns away from him, grin audible in his voice. He reaches behind to grab Nate's wrist and tugs his arms around him once more, wiggling around until he settles, all comfortable and warm. "More cuddling."

"Sure thing," A pause. "Honeybun."

Behrad pointedly pretends to be asleep and to not hear it, too spent to protest, and leans back further into Nate's arms. 

It's not long before Behrad really does fall asleep, and Nate's left alone again with his thoughts. Maybe this isn't the story he'd imagined for himself as a child-- there's no beautiful princess for him to charm and impress with his (frankly embarrassing) repertoire of historical trivia, but there's a guy who blew all those fantasies away and an absurd, unpredictable past-present-future ahead of them that he wouldn't trade for anything.

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe i've done this. who am i
> 
> and a big thank you to my dear friend and beta reader,[toonetta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toonetta/pseuds/Toonetta)
> 
> find me on [tumblr](https://flaminhotcheetoes.tumblr.com/)!!


End file.
